


Sammy and Dean

by Jacqueline Albright-Beckett (xaandria)



Series: Fairy Tales for ANobleCompanion [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hansel and Gretel - Freeform, birthday fic, fairy tale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 02:48:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1288408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xaandria/pseuds/Jacqueline%20Albright-Beckett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, there were two brothers. The older brother was named Dean, and the younger was called Sammy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sammy and Dean

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ANobleCompanion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ANobleCompanion/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY to a wonderful human being!

Once upon a time, there were two brothers. The older brother was named Dean, and the younger was called Sammy.

Sammy and Dean lived with their father, and they were always on the move. They never stayed in one town for more than a single week, and their father often left them alone for days at a time while he was out hunting. During these times, he would always tell Dean, "Watch over Sammy." And Dean did.

Except one day, the food their father had left wasn't enough, and there was no money to buy more. "I'm hungry," Sammy said one morning, rubbing his belly.

"I know," Dean said. He didnt say that he was hungry, too -- he had let Sammy eat his dinner last night instead of eating it himself, and he didn't want Sammy to feel bad. "I think we're going to have to go find food for ourselves."

"You're not leaving, too, are you?" Sammy asked.

"'Course not. You're coming with me."

And so Dean packed a bag with their jackets and a silver knife, and he locked the door of the motel behind them, and they ventured out.

But the city was large, and even though Dean was carefully marking their path on the map he'd taken from the front desk, they had soon taken so many turns that the pencil lines crisscrossed and smudged the ink and they were hopelessly lost. He tried to hide it as long as he could, so Sammy wouldn't worry, but Sammy was smart.

"We're lost, aren't we?" Sammy asked.

"No," Dean bluffed. "I know exactly where we are. It's everything else that's in the wrong place."

Sammy didn't start to cry, but Dean could tell that he wanted to. Dean sort of wanted to cry, too, but instead he took a deep breath.

"Look. We'll just go into that bakery and ask for directions. And maybe we can have some of their day-old bread or something."

But the sign on the counter in the bakery said "BACK IN 15 MINUTES." Sammy sighed sadly, and Dean nearly did too, until his eyes fell on a plate at the edge of the counter.

"FREE SAMPLES," said the card in front of the plate, and in smaller letters, "TUESDAY: BLACKBERRY PIE."

"Pie!" Dean exclaimed, pointing. "And it's free!"

They both fell upon the plate with enthusiasm, and the samples of pie were gone in a surprisingly short amount of time. Dean was just starting to feel guilty -- he was fairly sure that a sample was only one bite -- when an old lady opened the door to the kitchen.

"Oh?" she asked in surprise. "What can I do for you boys?"

"I'm sorry we ate all the samples," Dean said quickly.

"We were hungry," Sammy supplied, until Dean stepped o his foot to tell him to keep quiet. Dean would take care of this.

But the old lady just _tsk_ 'd. "No need for two young lads like yourselves to go hungry. There's plenty more where that came from. In fact, I have a whole shelf of pies in the kitchen. Would you like to come back and test them for me?"

Sammy and Dean both nodded vigorously.

The kitchen was warm and smelled like butter and bread and sugar. The old lady sat them upon tall stools at the high table, where she rolled out dough as she watched them each set upon a pie each as though they had not truly eaten in days.

Dean had made good work of most of his pie when Sammy pushed away the pie tin. "I don't feel so good," Sammy said in a low voice.

"Me either," Dean agreed, narrowing his eyes at the pie in front of him. It looked like there were two.

"I'm sleepy," Sammy said just as Dean figured out what was going on.

"Sammy! She put something in the pies!"

Sammy's eyes widened for a moment before they closed and he put his head down on his folded arms.

The old lady _tsk_ 'd again and gathered Sammy into her arms while Dean blinked hard. "Now, where will I put you while I get the oven ready?" the old lady murmured to herself.

"Let go of Sammy!" Dean shouted at the top of his lungs, jumping down from his stool to kick the old lady in her shins. He only managed one kick before he teetered off balance and fell, and when he hit his head on the ground he let his eyes close.

When he woke up, he and Sammy were in a tiny room surrounded by sacks of flour and sugar. Sammy really was crying now, and Dean felt sick as he rubbed his little brother's back.

"I'll figure out a way out of here," he promised.

"She's gonna eat us," Sammy protested.

"Not on my watch," Dean said firmly, even though he wasn't sure how he was going to get them out of the cupboard without the old lady noticing.

Dean's watch had stopped working a long time ago, and so it was impossible to tell how long Dean and Sammy sat in the dark cupboard. Sammy had fallen back asleep, but Dean sat awake, wondering and wondering how he was going to fix everything.

The old lady, who was of course a witch or something worse, opened the door and wrapped her long fingers around Dean's arm before he could run away. "I need your help getting bread out of the back of the oven," she said, pulling him from the cupboard and locking the door behind her, not once letting go of Dean.

Dean was only eight years old, but he wasn't stupid. He knew that if he went into the back of the giant oven, the witch would slam the door and cook him alive. He swallowed and as the witch opened the oven door and pointed, he put the most innocent look he could manage on his face. "I don't see the bread," he lied.

"It's right back there," the witch said impatiently, pointing with one hand as she shoved Dean forward with the other.

But as luck would have it, as she pushed at Dean, she lost balance herself and stumbled. Seeing a chance, Dean pulled as hard as he could at her arm, and as she fell, Dean pushed her into the giant oven and slammed the door behind her.

Even though she had just been about to roast Dean, it made Dean feel sick to think of turning the giant oven on and cooking her, and so he pushed the tall table in front of the door so it would take her a long time to get out. Then, while she banged on the door and yelled, Dean ran back over to the cupboard.

But it was locked, and the witch had the key!

Dean nearly started kicking at the door, like he had seen his father do, before he remembered that his father's old lockpicks were in Dean's jacket pocket, and the bag with their jackets was still propped up against one of the tall stools. Dean fetched the lockpicks and started to try them in the lock, very carefully. He'd only practiced on simple locks before, but this one didn't seem much more complicated.

With a whoop of triumph Dean managed to force the last tumbler into place, and he yanked open the door. "Come on, Sammy! Let's get out of here!" And he pulled Sammy out of the cupboard and through the kitchen, ignoring the screaming witch in the oven.

But it was dark now, and the city looked even more confusing at night. Worse, Dean had lost his map. After wandering for what felt like hours, they finally sat down on a curb to rest, watching the traffic lights change despondently. Sammy laid his head on Dean's shoulder and fell asleep, and Dean tried not to move as he thought hard about what to do next.

"Dean. Sam."

Dean looked up, startled. "Who are you? How do you know my name?" he demanded. Then, "We're done talking to strangers. And your tie is backwards."

The man in the long khaki coat did not smile. "I'm only a stranger because you haven't met me yet, but I've been watching over you and your brother for a very long time. My name is Castiel. I'm an Angel of The Lord."

Dean snorted. "Right. And I'm the Pope."

Castiel squinted. "No. You're not."

"Look, just leave us alone, okay?" Dean asked, reaching into his jacket to make sure he knew where the silver knife was.

"This city isn't a good place for two young boys to be alone at night. Let me take you back to your motel. Your father will be home soon."

And without another word, Castiel knelt in front of them and reached out to touch both their foreheads.

Dean opened his mouth to gasp, but before he even took in any air, everything around him changed, and they were all back in the motel room. Dean and Sam were sitting on the edge of the bed, and Castiel was straightening in front of them.

"How did you do that?" Dean demanded in awe, all suspicion falling away.

Castiel almost smiled. "You're a little young for theoretical physics."

"If you could do that, and you're supposed to be watching over us, why didn't you do that sooner? That witch would have killed us!" Dean said.

Castiel shrugged. "You were handling the situation." Another almost-smile. "Besides. Who do you think made the witch stumble?"

Dean gaped at that as the angel turned around. "I could kiss you," he blurted out.

Castiel made a small sound that could have been laughter. "Maybe when you're older," he said. "Take care of yourself, Dean."

And with a sound like wind in feathers, the angel was gone.

Dean and Sammy's father came back to the room, and even though he scolded Dean for letting Sammy get flour and berry stains all over his clothes, Dean didn't mind. They were safe and warm, the bed was soft, and Dean had met an angel.

And, all things considered, the pie had been pretty good.

 

 


End file.
